Chapter 202

Pang Shuiyun.

One of the Twenty-Four Generals of the Taiping Army, and its chief strategist.

One of the Five Vertical and Horizontal Masters of the previous generation.

Known as the Flying Phoenix.

Li Guanyi knew this famed general and strategist well; Pang Shuiyun smiled and said, "Tonight is long, Young Master. Why not walk a while with me? If you have any questions, we may chat as old men do."

Li Guanyi nodded. As he lowered his gaze, he saw the silver-haired girl had vanished—hidden away. He knew that as a disciple of the Star Gazing School, Yao Guang deliberately avoided certain people. He simply said calmly, "Mr. Please lead the way."

Pang Shuiyun smiled and bowed slightly.

He walked beside Li Guanyi along the quiet night road.

Li Guanyi outlined his plan and general situation; Pang Shuiyun's tone was gentle: "Your strategy is simple, yet direct and effective. All I did was give it a gentle push. As for Zhenxi Xiongcheng, due to Chen Dingye, its power structure is inherently a product of mutual checks among factions."

"After tonight, Zhenxi Xiongcheng will undergo a radical transformation."

"The great generals crave the power of this mighty city."

"The three forces—military meritocrats, noble clans, and the Military School—interweave, creating possibilities for persuasion, suppression, and division. Zhenxi Xiongcheng is like a priceless treasure; around this city, conflict will arise—and where there is conflict, there is room for us to act."

"But this backup plan cannot be activated yet."

"If we ride the tide of momentum, the incriminating evidence we hold against those two generals will turn them to our side. But now, Young Master, you are merely a wandering swordsman, and I am merely a teacher. They would simply tie us up and throw us into the river."

Pang Shuiyun laughed: "So, the backup plan for Zhenxi Xiongcheng may seem sweet and tempting—but it is poisoned. Let it lie here for now."

Li Guanyi asked, "What do you think we should do, Mr.?"

Pang Shuiyun stroked his beard and said gently, "To be honest, I am not from the Military School. I know nothing of battle formations or stratagems—I am far behind my colleagues. But when it comes to Wang Bazhi's residual strategies and the critical points of reliance, I may have a day's advantage."

"Given the current situation, there is only one word—【Go】."

"The factions here will face massive upheaval. If you stay here, you will trap yourself. The seed has been planted; it will take years before it sprouts. Before then, you must go out into the world."

"But you cannot leave today."

"Right now, Zhenxi Xiongcheng is at its most taut state."

"It seems relaxed, but to walk out from within is extremely dangerous. Let it remain taut for a few more days—then, suddenly, it will loosen. That will be your chance to leave…" As Pang Shuiyun and Li Guanyi walked, they finished analyzing the situation of Zhenxi Xiongcheng and arrived at the Xue Family Moneyhouse.

Inside the Xue Family Moneyhouse, Xue Zhaoji and others waited anxiously. Li Guanyi had risked himself inside, and now each part of the plan had come to pass: the Yue Army's iron cavalry had galloped far away; Zhenxi Xiongcheng's elite troops had been mobilized inward—all as intended. Yet no one knew Li Guanyi's fate.

Just as Xue Zhaoji was about to send Xue family members to investigate, a laugh came: "No need to worry—Li Guanyi is unharmed."

Xue Zhaoji's face lit up. He turned—and there, walking calmly toward them, was the young Daoist.

Though his face was slightly pale, his spirit was radiant, and he was unharmed. Xue Zhaoji finally exhaled in relief—then noticed an elegant old man beside Li Guanyi. He frowned in confusion. The old man smiled slightly and said:

"I am surnamed Pang. I am merely a scribe under the Young Master's command."

Xue Zhaoji gave no further thought, merely summoned servants. Li Guanyi changed clothes, bathed. His wounds were shallow and had already stopped bleeding. He donned clean robes but kept his wooden hairpin. When he emerged, Xue Zhaoji had already prepared medicinal wine and tea snacks.

Pang Shuiyun looked at Li Guanyi and said gently:

"I've heard the Young Master owns an establishment called Changfeng Lady. Might I be allowed to see it?"

Li Guanyi nodded. Xue Zhaoji naturally pulled out all details of Changfeng Lady to explain to Pang Shuiyun, assuming the refined old man knew nothing of covert organizations—so he spoke with a touch of pride. Yet he never expected that Pang Shuiyun's few quiet questions left him struggling to answer.

He fell silent again, asked a few more questions.

Xue Zhaoji, a seasoned elder with unshakable will and much hardship behind him, now had sweat on his brow, bewildered and stalled. Pang Shuiyun looked at Li Guanyi and smiled: "Young Master, if you do not find me overstepping, may I reorganize Changfeng Lady?"

Li Guanyi believed in entrusting professional matters to professionals. He replied promptly:

"Do as you see fit, Old Pang!"

Pang Shuiyun smiled and nodded.

Li Guanyi was utterly exhausted. Now that he relaxed, his Dragon Tendon, Tiger Marrow physique demanded massive energy replenishment. He ate enough high-energy food for twenty men. The food vanished into his body, swiftly consumed by his powerful organs.

Bruise-like marks surfaced on his skin, then slowly faded.

Intense fatigue sent Li Guanyi into deep sleep.

In sleep, he faintly sensed his window being pried open from outside.

Then the silver-haired girl, who had vanished earlier, slipped in.

His guard rose—then dissolved. He closed his eyes and slept. When he awoke, sunlight poured through the gaps in his window, warm on his face.

Li Guanyi rolled over—and saw no Yao Guang. He frowned. Had yesterday been an illusion? He thought as he stepped out, washed, ate, and wandered outside. The guards were far stricter than usual.

The city lord had been imprisoned directly by three generals.

All his former personal attendants were dragged out and beheaded, their crimes read aloud. The people cheered.

Li Guanyi glanced, then turned back. For days, he merely rested and regained his strength.

Pang Shuiyun restructured the entire Changfeng Lady. Compared to a pure martial underworld intelligence network or Xue Lao's commercial intelligence system, the new version leaned heavily toward a professional spy and scout organization.

The young man watched the strict divisions, the new style, and one subtle point—

Extreme efficiency brought a significant cost reduction.

At least thirty percent less than before.

Pang Shuiyun's reply to this was:

"After all, the Lord is poor." Seeing the young man's stunned expression, the white-haired old strategist smiled, with a touch of nostalgia: "The Lord still sees himself as an old farmer. So whenever he can save money, he will find a way."

"Of course, espionage cannot avoid spending gold. An army without intelligence is blind—its losses far exceed the cost of spies."

During these days, Pang Shuiyun, on one hand, mobilized forces for unknown purposes.

On another, he spread many rumors.

On yet another, he exaggerated Li Guanyi's deeds and proclaimed them widely, building his fame. One day, the young man went out for an appointment to meet Prince Ji Yanzhong. He arrived early and waited in a teahouse.

Inside, a storyteller was reciting, slamming his wooden clapper: he spoke of events at the city lord's mansion days ago—the rogue of the martial world, the Yuwen clan—how the city lord was cruel, and how a young hero, alone, attended the banquet to shatter Yingguo's deceit.

He saved the Yue Army outside the city—bold, clever, extraordinary in youth.

The storyteller spoke with flowing eloquence, eyes gleaming, his skill drawing all tea-drinkers into silent attention. Finally, he slammed his wooden clapper hard on the table—CRACK! —making hearts jump.

The storyteller, perched above, swept his gaze across the crowd and declared loudly:

"Do you know who this man is? He is none other than Qin Wu, the County Lord of Qin Wu, the Fire Qilin of turbulent times, Li Guanyi of the Li family—who slew the corrupt chancellor in Jiangzhou, flaunted his might in Yicheng, and with a single battle spear, defeated heroes across the Central Plains, the Jiangnan region, the Western Regions, and the great deserts!"

The audience cried out, "Bravo!"

Coins and copper plates rained to the floor.

The storyteller continued: "Now, as for this Li Guanyi..."

Upstairs, Li Guanyi, idly killing time while waiting to meet Prince Ji Yanzhong, wanted to cover his face and leap from the balcony. Pang Shuiyun had said that reputation held immense power—if you didn't seize it, others would. So better to swallow the fame first.

The three generals of this city had done things they could not openly speak of.

So let us seize this reputation instead.

The young man was startled and asked whether he shouldn't lie low.

Pang Shuiyun burst into laughter. "Only heroes attract heroes. If the young master wishes to retire to the mountains and forests, then conceal yourself. But if not, then you must wear a reputation as vast as the heavens. How can one who seeks great deeds be bound by restraint?"

"If you lack renown across the land, why would scholars, literati, and military officers from a thousand li away come rushing to you? Do you plan to seek them out one by one? How many years will that take?"

"When the greatest general of the realm marches, even mere fame is enough to terrify the four corners."

He added further: "An army's morale can be shattered; a general's spirit can be broken. Thus, morning morale is sharp, midday morale grows sluggish, and evening morale fades. Skilled commanders avoid the enemy's sharp edge and strike when they are weary and returning. This is how one governs morale. Maintain order to await chaos, remain calm to await uproar—this is how one governs the spirit."

"When a great general dwells within and bears a name that spans the land, the army's morale swells."

"The young master must cultivate his reputation—it cannot be achieved overnight. Begin swiftly."

"Do not wait until the day you need this reputation, raise your arm, and call out—only to find you have none. By then, it will be too late."

The strategist hesitated, then voiced a deeper reason:

"Moreover, when the young master returns with his troops, no matter how you frame it, it will be seen as an invasion of Chen."

"To the people's eyes, is it better to see a righteous, heroic figure forced into exile, now returning to save the realm—and thus win their hearts—or a ruthless, wanted criminal arriving with iron cavalry? No need to say more."

"This act is to seize the people's hearts."

"Mere fame is false. What matters is making the people feel goodwill toward the young master."

Pang Shuiyun spoke gently, doing his best to explain clearly.

Yet he still worried the young master, barely fifteen by lunar age, did not grasp how vital this was.

His tone grew heavier, using provocation: "You have set foot upon the world. If you carry the heart to bear the world, can you not bear even this small measure of false fame?"

But he had not expected the young man to pause, then reply calmly:

"Mr. Pang is right. He who wins the people's hearts wins the realm."

"I leave it all to you, sir."

Pang Shuiyun froze, astonished at the words of this fourteen- or fifteen-year-old. Yet he also felt that, compared to the commander's carefree ease, this youth carried a deeper stillness. He bowed slightly and said:

"Now I understand why Po Jun chose you."

Li Guanyi let him have his way—approved every expenditure of silver without question, and eventually told Xue Zhaoji: if Pang Shuiyun needed money, he need not report it—Xue Lao could simply take it himself.

Xue Zhaoji did not know, only sighed at this young lord.

According to Xue Lao's words, he had a fair bit of greed for wealth.

Yet now, not a trace of that greed remained—only the boldness of a hero. The Changfeng Pavilion and Liufeng Huixue Pavilion had begun turning profits, yet he gave all the earnings to Pang Shuiyun, taking not a single coin or treasure for himself.

In Liufeng Huixue Pavilion, over a hundred maidens—none he so much as glanced at.

He did not love wealth, nor lust after beauty; he practiced sword and martial arts, and in his spare time played the qin and let out long, resonant cries.

Such a man seeks something vast.

As Li Guanyi sipped tea and gazed at the scenery outside, it seemed another guest had arrived—a gentle, aged voice said: "Young friend, is anyone here? If you do not mind, may this old man join you?"

Li Guanyi turned his gaze toward him.

An elderly man, serene and refined.

Dressed in a blue robe, his white hair fell to his waist. Though aged, one could see he had once been strikingly handsome, with calm, composed bearing.

Unlike martial cultivators, he bore no sword at his waist.

Only a willow branch.

So unforgettable at first glance.

He simply looked at Li Guanyi.

Li Guanyi turned back, smiling: "This isn't my home, old sir—please sit." The tall, blue-robed elder sat down, ordered a pot of tea, poured himself a cup, and drank alone, back straight. Though drinking tea, he exuded the bold ease of one drinking wine.

In the private room behind him, Master Siming grinned.

They had arrived in Beicheng long ago.

The array outside Beicheng was complex and formidable, but Master Siming had left himself more than one "backdoor" and had simply wandered in. Yet because Yao Guang usually followed Li Guanyi, he could not lock onto his position.

These past two days, the girl had finally loosened her grip on Li Guanyi.

Jian Kuang had not waited a moment—he had stormed upstairs.

Master Siming sighed, ordered a plate of peanuts, ate slowly, and strained his ears to listen to the conversation across the room.

With Master Siming's realm and methods, if he wished to hide, Li Guanyi's crude Yin-Yang arts could never detect him. Yet the blue-robed elder sat opposite the boy, pouring and drinking alone.

He seemed to listen to the storyteller, yet noticed Li Guanyi was merely gazing outside.

The blue-robed elder with the willow branch smiled and asked: "Young friend, do you not enjoy the storyteller's tale? Do you think this Li Guanyi is not a true young hero?"

Li Guanyi grinned.

How could I say I'm that powerful?

Li Guanyi felt his actions these past few days had been reckless.

Using oneself as a pawn was not Po Jun's ideal strategy—it was truly desperate.

Looking at the elder, for some reason, he felt no great wariness. After a moment's thought, he placed the Songwen Ancient Sword on the table and asked with a smile: "Old sir, do you understand Wu Gong?"

The blue-robed elder stroked his willow branch and smiled: "I do."

"Just a little sword technique."

The bronze tripod showed no reaction.

Just like encountering an ordinary person.

Li Guanyi said: "I have some Wu Gong, so I know the man in the story—his actions were too reckless and impulsive. Though he succeeded, much of it was luck; if he had failed, he would have suffered serious injuries."

The young man held his tea, took a sip, reflected inwardly, and muttered: "To treat one's body as a pawn, to be arrogant and rash—though he escaped in the end, it was merely coincidence and luck. How could such a man be called a hero?"

The green-robed Master Jiankuang's eyes held admiration, and he smiled.

"Oh? I didn't realize your standards were so high."

"Tell me, what kind of person, in your eyes, qualifies as a hero?"

The Madman poured Li Guanyi another cup of tea and pushed it over with his hand.

Li Guanyi said: "There are so many heroes in the world—how could I possibly name them all?"

Master Jiankuang Murong Longtu chuckled: "Just name the greatest one, then."

Li Guanyi lifted his tea and drank it in one gulp, thought for a moment, then said frankly: "If we speak of battlefields, the greatest general under heaven—on foot, he is invincible; on horseback, he can defeat the Iron Foutu and the Khan of the Grasslands; his navy has crushed the elite forces of Chen."

"That counts as a hero."

"Tai Ping Gong, Marshal Yue Pengwu—fierce and skilled in battle, loyal to all under heaven—he too is a hero."

"As for the martial world, Master Jiankuang Murong Longtu, wielding a single long sword, has never lost a duel across the land; in a fit of rage, he defeated two armies from Ying and Chen, standing alone as an entire army—a martial hero who led the eighteen states of Jiangnan to break free from Chen."

"He is emotional and righteous, his Wu Gong peerless—truly a hero!"

Master Siming grinned, glancing at the ancient tortoise spirit form beside him.

The tortoise looked astonished.

The old Master Siming grinned again, mumbling: "Oh no, oh no."

"No matter how many lies you tell, flattery never fails—and yet this boy doesn't even know the old man is Master Jiankuang. This isn't even flattery."

"When this boy broke out of Jiangzhou City, the old man already liked him."

"A few days ago, he caused chaos in the governor's mansion, drank with four Grand Masters, held his own without yielding an inch, and even threatened the Grand Elder of Yin-Yang Cycle Sect."

"Add this to it—good heavens, how much must the old man like this boy now?"

Leaving Master Siming's astonishment aside.

The green-robed Master Jiankuang merely said gently:

"Though my name as Master Jiankuang is famous, it's not as great as the legends say, isn't it?"

Li Guanyi thought of the man in the blue robe and answered frankly: "Wu Gong alone doesn't make a hero. The Blue Robe Immortal takes lives lightly; the Dao Sect elder is indifferent to the world. Though both are unparalleled martial geniuses, neither qualifies as a hero!"

"Even with low martial arts, daring to draw one's sword against the powerful in this world—that is a hero."

"How can a mere martial man who stands alone against two nations not be a hero?!"

The green-robed elder suddenly burst into loud laughter: "Hahahaha, good, good, good!"

He laughed with unrestrained joy, utterly delighted.

Finally, he drank his tea and said: "Good child, good child—who could have raised such a child…?"

The elder sighed for a long while, then asked: "How are your parents?"

Li Guanyi fell silent for a long time, then said: "My parents are dead."

The elder said nothing.

Li Guanyi pressed his hand to his chest and whispered: "But my father opened a path to life for me; my mother protected me for eleven years…" The young man lowered his gaze; within his chest, it seemed as if birdsong echoed—and the Qing Luan spirit form began to circle gently.

The green-robed Master Jiankuang's eyes froze. His cultivation realm was so high—he watched his own great-grandson sitting there, head bowed, a tear mole on his corner eye just like his granddaughter's, black hair slightly lifted, the Qing Luan spirit form swirling softly around him.

Even such a wild martial man felt his heart twist like a knife.

He unconsciously softened his tone: "Your parents must have cherished you deeply."

Li Guanyi smiled and replied: "I learned my father's Wu Gong, and I understand my mother's qin…" The green-robed elder waved his hand, summoning the singing woman over, placing the qin down, and smiling: "Old man here would like to hear your qin music."

The young Daoist laughed freely: "Sure, I'm waiting for someone anyway."

Li Guanyi tuned the strings and played, calm and unhurried. Murong Longtu listened to the lingering melody; the boy's head bowed, black hair lifted slightly, and as the music played, a strand of black hair fell across his temple, the tear mole on his eye just as he had seen it long ago.

Such a martial man stood transfixed for a long while.

After Li Guanyi finished playing, he saw a message arrive from afar—Ji Yanzhong had reached the meeting place. The young man snapped back to awareness, set the qin down, and smiled: "Elder, I have other matters today. If fate allows, we shall meet again."

"For some reason, I feel you look very familiar."

Li Guanyi pulled out money from his sleeve and placed it on the table.

Then he lightly pressed against the window and flew out into the air, leaving quickly. Master Siming burst in, staring at the motionless, lost green-robed elder: "Hey hey hey, old man, what's wrong with you?"

The Master Jiankuang seemed deeply sorrowful.

He let out a long sigh: "Today, seeing this child, my heart is greatly comforted."

Master Siming nodded, as if expecting it: "I knew you favored this boy. Only he is worthy of receiving your Wu Gong."

The green-robed elder looked like an ordinary old man, watching the boy's figure fade into the distance.

Then, as if casually, he asked Master Siming:

"Who were those four Grand Masters you mentioned the other day?"

Master Siming paused slightly.

He slowly raised his gaze and saw the elder seated there, white hair at his temples fluttering slightly, his eyes still fixed on the boy's retreating back.

A long while passed.

Master Siming grinned, thinking of those four fools—they were in for trouble.

Then he answered: "Dragon King of the Furious Scales, the Furious Sword Immortal of Kunlun Mountain."

"The head of Motian Sect Sect."

"And the Grand Elder of Yin-Yang Cycle Sect."

Murong Longtu nodded, then said: "You're mistaken, old friend."

Master Siming froze.

The old man lowered his gaze and said softly: "I mean."

The Qing Robe Master Jiankuang set down his teacup and looked at Master Siming; in Master Siming's eyes, the old Master Jiankuang's gaze was calm, his lead-gray irises holding a thread of blood—suddenly, the sky lost its color, and the Master Jiankuang's figure filled heaven and earth, asking:

"Where is their sect?"